Snape's Christmas Carol
by shadowycat
Summary: Severus Snape takes a trip through his subconscious and comes out with a greater appreciation for the one person who truly cares about him.
1. Preface

                                                                                                   Snape's Christmas Carol

Disclaimer:  Every character in this story belongs to J. K. Rowling , their circumstances are courtesy of Charles Dickens, I'm just messing around with them for the fun of it.  No monetary gain is sought, just amusement. 

                                                                                                                  Preface

Severus Snape was a cold man.  He was nasty, suspicious, rude, and sarcastic.  Hard and sharp as dragon's scales.  Secret and solitary as a boggart.  No warmth could warm him, for he was as bitter as a chill wind.  No feelings could move him.  He was a bad man to cross.  Yet people continued to make that mistake.

                                                                      ************************************************

Snape threw open the door, and Harry found himself gazing at shelf after shelf of bottles, boxes, aquariums, baskets, containers of all sorts.  Each one was labeled in Snape's neat crabbed handwriting.  He swallowed hard.  What had he gotten himself into?

"Since you're so interested in the contents of my storeroom, Mr. Potter, I shall put you to work.  You know what they say about idle hands."

Harry looked up into Snape's sneering face.  "But…it's Christmas Eve, Professor."

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, is it?  That didn't seem to concern you a short time ago, when I found you with your hand in my store of ribbonworms."

Harry looked down at the floor.

Snape smirked.  "Perhaps you'd prefer we took a trip to the Headmaster's office?  Last I knew stealing was against the rules.  In fact, I've always believed it to be a crime, Mr. Potter.  Tsk, tsk.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised…what with having a criminal like Sirius Black for a role model.  Criminal behavior seems to be second nature to you."

Harry balled his fists and turned defiant eyes back up to Snape.  However, when his eyes met Snape's and noted their gleam of anticipation, good sense reasserted itself.  Harry swallowed his anger and looked down.

Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered.  "Well, well, self-control.  Perhaps there's hope for you yet, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed.  Like Snape should talk about self-control!  It hadn't been Harry, after all, who'd been apoplectic with rage, spitting all over Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack.

Snape continued, "Well, Mr. Potter, what shall it be?  Do we go find the Headmaster and disturb his evening as you've disturbed mine?"  

Harry looked at Snape a trifle sullenly.  "No, Professor Snape.  What do you want me to do?"

Snape nodded with satisfaction, a small triumphant smile flirted with his lips.  "That's better.  The contents of my storeroom have been disarranged after a semester of work.  I need an accurate accounting of what it contains.  Therefore, I would like you to do a complete inventory of its contents."

Harry's jaw dropped.  "That'll take all night!  And probably all tomorrow, too!"

Snape smirked smugly at him.  "Then you'd better get started."  He snapped his fingers, and a ledger appeared in his hand.  With the quirk of a knowing eyebrow, he handed this to Harry, who took it with ill grace.

"Is there anything else you wish to add, Mr. Potter?"

Harry considered all the choice comments he'd like to add and reluctantly settled for saying.  "No, sir."

Snape nodded.  "Very good.  Please begin at once.  Be sure that your handwriting remains legible, Mr. Potter.  I'd hate for you to have to do this more than once."

With a look of pure hatred, Harry took the ledger and walked into the storeroom to begin his endless task.

Snape listened to Harry begin to move things around in his storeroom and smiled to himself.  Oh, yes, Christmas had come early for Severus Snape this year!  He returned to his desk and the end of term papers that he'd been grading.

The Potions Master nodded in satisfaction.  Mr. Harry "I'm so full of myself" Potter needed to be taken down a peg or two, and he was just the one to do it!  Potter's swelled head needed to be deflated for his own good.  The darling of the wizarding world needed to learn a little discipline, a little humility, a little caution.  If he didn't…it was all over but the mourning.  A dead hero is of no use to anyone, after all.  Why can't these Gryffindors understand this?  Oh, well, he'd always suspected that brainpower was sadly lacking in that house…with one notable exception, of course.

                                                                       *************************************************

After a couple of hours, as Snape was beginning to feel total frustration over the abysmal contents of the papers he was grading.  "My god!  Don't these students ever listen in class?"  Dumbledore opened Snape's classroom door and came in.

Snape sighed.  "Here for you yearly pep talk, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled fondly at Snape.  "It does seem to be the only way to get you to show up for Christmas dinner, Severus."

Snape shook his head and looked at him in disgust.  "Christmas is a waste of my valuable time, Albus!  Whoever decided to make it a holiday should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!"

Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Snape.  "Christmas is a time of kindness and good fellowship, Severus.  Your valuable time would be better spent getting to know your fellow staff members and enjoying a break from your labors as we break bread together."

Snape grimaced.  "I always come for the food."

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps, but you never stay for the socializing.  You need some warmth and happiness in your life, Severus."

A snort was heard coming from the storeroom. 

Dumbledore glanced at the door in surprise.  "Is someone in there, Severus?"

Snape looked as if he'd bitten into something unpleasant.  "Yes, Headmaster.  A student is doing a task for me."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.  "On Christmas Eve?"

Snape looked him in the eye.  "You've always said, Albus, that you trust your staff to discipline their students for their infractions in an appropriate manner.  I assure you that this student merited his punishment."

Dumbledore sighed.  "Very well, Severus.  Will I see you tomorrow?"

Snape nodded stiffly.  "I will attend dinner…do not anticipate a lengthy stay."

Dumbledore sighed again and regarded Snape sadly.  "You're always welcome, Severus, however long you choose to stay."  With that he patted Snape on the shoulder and quietly left the room.

                                                                        *************************************************

A couple of hours later still, Snape closed his grade book with a snap.  Well, that task was done.  Time to check on Mr. Potter.  Plastering a sneer onto his face, he rose from his desk and approached the storeroom.  When he opened the door he found Harry sitting on the floor counting Moke scales and shivering madly.  His lips were quite blue.

"How is it going, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up and frowned.  "You made me lose count!" he stammered through stiff lips.

Snape had to restrain a laugh at Harry's righteous indignation, tempered by the fact that he looked like a human popsicle.  "Temper, temper, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed hard at the nasty gleam in Snape's eye.  "I'm about halfway through, Professor."

Snape gave a satisfied nod.  "Very well.  You may return to your dormitory for the night.  Be here tomorrow at eight a.m. to continue this.  If you're diligent, you can probably finish in time for Christmas dinner."

Knowing it was less than useless to argue, Harry nodded and dumped the Moke scales back into their container.  He could begin with them tomorrow.  He closed the ledger and climbed stiffly to his feet.  Slowly he walked out of the storeroom and left the ledger on Snape's desk.  As he was almost to the door, Snape's voice halted him momentarily.  "Good night, Mr. Potter.  Please, do not keep me waiting in the morning."

The boy turned and looked at Snape standing stiffly by the storeroom door.  "Good night, Professor Snape."  Then he turned and fled from this icebox of a dungeon.


	2. Stave One: Baron's Ghost

                                                                                                      Stave One: Baron's Ghost

Snape smirked to himself as he watched Harry Potter leave his dungeon.  Power was a wonderful thing, but it was useless if one couldn't use it to effect the changes one sought.  Oh well, there was always tomorrow.  Snape checked over his classroom one last time to be sure that everything was set to rights for the night.  Then with a wave of his wand, he extinguished the lights, locked the door, and headed for his solitary rest.

When he arrived in the dim corridor outside his room, he looked at his door in surprise.  It seemed to have grown a head!  Yes, a blood-spattered head was hovering in the middle of his door.  He closed his eyes and shook his head sharply.  When he opened them again, the head was gone.  He frowned, thinking that he must be more tired than he'd thought.

He opened the door and entered his chambers, being very careful to lock the door behind him against surprise.  His fire burned low in the grate.  He didn't bother to bring any other light up into the room.  Darkness had never bothered him.  It was peaceful and easy, soothing after a day of dealing with life's frustrations…students!

Snape crossed the room to his desk and opened a cupboard.  From within he extracted a glass and a bottle of very old brandy.  With a small contented smile he poured himself a dram and retreated to his chair by the fire.  Where he loosened the top buttons of his robes and leaned back into his chair with his glass.

The sharp tolling of a bell brought him rudely back to consciousness and halfway out of his chair.  What the hell was that?  There aren't any bells around here.  He glanced around, but all seemed normal.  Shaking his head, he sank back into his chair.  He must've dozed off.  It had been a very long trying day.  Aren't they all!

Comfortably he settled back and stared into the fire.  He gradually became aware of a distant clanking sound, and it was getting louder.  Suddenly the flames in the fireplace flared up, and the clanking sound increased to a painful volume.

Snape sat up and looked around frantically.  What was going on?  Then a ghastly face appeared in his fireplace.  For a brief moment, Snape felt himself shiver in fear.  Then he recognized the face, as the full figure of the Bloody Baron made its entry into his sitting room through the fire.

"Oh, for god's sake, Baron!  What kind of an entrance is that to make?  Are you trying to startle me into next week?"

The Baron stared spectrally at Snape.  "My apologies if I frightened you, Professor Snape."

Snape snorted and leaned back in his chair.  "You'd have to try harder than that if you truly wished to frighten me, Baron.  What brings you to my rooms so late?"

The Baron floated down into the mate to Snape's chair by the fire.  "It's Christmas Eve, always a restless night for spirits."

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "Why is that?"

"It's a night of reminders of the happiness and comfort of life that I wasted, Professor Snape.  It's a night that never fails to remind me of how I came to be a wandering spirit instead of being able to find a much-needed rest after a long life.  I should like to spare you the same fate that I've suffered."

Snape looked astonished.  "Me?  What do your circumstances have to do with me?  Surely our life paths are sufficiently dissimilar."

The baron shook his head and moaned.  "Not in the ways that count."

Snape shook his head in return.  "I don't understand."

"In my lifetime, I scorned the love of a good woman, belittled my family, betrayed my comrades, and sought power and influence over all.  I was cruel and cold to all who crossed my path.  After my death, I discovered that I was doomed to wander eternally, unless I could obtain forgiveness from those I'd wronged in life.  Just one person's forgiveness would do to set me free to rest.  But once they'd all died and slipped the bounds of earth, my hope was gone.  So I wander and watch over what I can no longer have."

Although he didn't want to admit it this ghostly confidence made Snape very uncomfortable.  So he sneered, slipping back into the comfortable and familiar.  "So you're here to save my eternal soul, eh?  How thoughtful of you."

The Baron flew into a rage.  "Do not mock me, sir!  I seek to do you good!"

Snape shrank back into his chair in the face of such ghostly ire.  "I meant no offense, Baron.  How do you mean to help me?"

"By knocking some sense into that thick head of yours, Snape!  Do you really want to wander this earth as a spectre, eternally begging for the forgiveness of Harry Potter?"

Snape swallowed hard.  Now there was an unpleasant picture!

The Baron nodded in satisfaction at the expression on Snape's face.  "Right.  I thought so.  Let's give this a go, shall we?  You will be haunted by three spirits."

Snape frowned at the Baron.  "I'd really rather not."

The Baron loomed over him.  "Without their visits, you haven't a prayer, Snape!  Expect the first when the hour tolls one, and for your own sake remember what we've talked about."

With that final admonishment the Baron flew wildly around the room for a moment and then exited once more through the fireplace.


	3. Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirit...

                                                                                           Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits

Snape was jarred roughly back to wakefulness by a bell tolling one.  What's with the bells anyway?  There were no bells in his chambers!  He rolled over in the middle of his big bed and tried to get comfortable again.  Why was it suddenly so cold in here?

Suddenly the green curtains of his bed were drawn back by a hand, and Snape found himself face to face with Minerva McGonagall.  He stared at her in shock.  She was dressed oddly in a tunic of purest white with a beautiful sparkling belt.  In her hand, she carried her usual black peaked hat.  Her hair hung long and free, and a jet of pure white light sprang from the top of her head.

"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night, Minerva!?  Have you lost your mind?"  He sat up and pulled the bedclothes up under his chin.

This bizarre vision simply looked at him and stated in a soft and gentle voice.  "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Snape was suddenly overcome with a strong desire to giggle.  This really was the most absurd situation!  Then another thought struck him.  The Baron had said that he'd be haunted by three spirits.  Was it possible that this actually wasn't Minerva McGonagall after all?"

He closed his eyes.  Perhaps he was dreaming.  That must be it!  When he opens his eyes again she'll be gone, and everything will be normal.  He peeked out from under half closed lids.  No such luck!  She was still there, staring at him like a dead fish.

Resignedly he heaved a sigh.  "You're not Minerva McGonagall?"

The figure smiled, shook her head, and quietly stated once more.  "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

He nodded slowly.  "Uh huh…long past?"

She shook her head.  "No.  Your past."

A dark frown crossed his face.  "My past is best left in the past.  Why are you here anyway?"

"Your well being.  Rise and walk with me."  She held out her hand.  "Take my hand."

He frowned as he stared blankly at it.  "I should get dressed first."

She smiled archly.  "We aren't going anywhere where you'll be seen.  Anyway, my time is short and your toilet lengthy."

He sniffed.  "Really, there's no need to be insulting."  Resignedly he got out of bed, shoved his feet into slippers, and reluctantly took her hand.

She pulled him across the room and straight through the wall into another underground stone chamber that he immediately recognized as the Slytherin common room.  A small solitary figure sat forlornly next to the fire.

"Look, the school isn't quite deserted."  The spirit pointed at the young boy, whom Snape recognized as his former self at eleven or twelve…or possibly thirteen.  All Christmases were much the same at that age.  "A young Severus Snape sits forgotten at Christmas," intoned the spirit mournfully. 

Snape sighed impatiently.  "Yes, yes, it's all very sad.  Really spirit, you're not showing me anything I don't already know.  I did live through this, after all.  If your aim is to make me wistful for the "joy of Christmas past", you're woefully missing the mark!"  He crossed his arms and frowned at her.

With a shake of her bright head, she sighed.  "Always the difficult one, eh, Severus?  Let's try another one."  She held out her hand.  He rolled his eyes and grasped it firmly, pausing to give his former self an enigmatic glance as they swept back through the wall.

This time they came out into the Great Hall of the castle, which was elaborately decorated for Christmas.  Food was piled high on the table, and several people were gathered around it, laughing and talking. 

The spirit turned to Snape.  "Look familiar, Severus?"

He frowned and studied the people at the table.  Dumbledore, looking much as he does now, sat at the head of the table.  The merrymakers were pulling open Wizard Crackers, and Dumbledore was replacing his usual peaked hat with an enormous straw one decorated with peacock feathers.

The young man on his right was grinning broadly at the sight.  Snape looked closer in horror.  My god!  That was he!  This was his first Christmas at Hogwarts as a teacher.  Dumbledore joined the young Severus in laughter.  "Does it suit me, my boy?"  

Young Severus shook his head.  "I'm afraid it rather clashes with your outfit, Headmaster."

Dumbledore continued to chuckle.  "Perhaps so, perhaps so.  Let's see if you do any better.  Pull open your cracker."

Severus did so.  There was a puff of blue smoke and out sprang a little pink pillbox hat with a veil.  Both men dissolved into laughter and were joined by a rather tipsy looking Minerva McGonagall, who said, "Oh, Severus, pink isn't your color."

The young man picked up the hat and handed it to the older woman.  "I think you're right, Minerva.  Perhaps it would suit you better."  She blushed and took the hat.  "Do you think so?"  

Severus smiled kindly.  "Absolutely, Minerva."

The older Snape's face was burning with embarrassment for his younger self.  Yet he couldn't help but be aware that his younger self seemed to be completely at ease and content at this table in the company of these people.  When had he lost that?

To cover his sudden discomfiture at this insight, he turned back to the spirit.  "It didn't suit her either," he grumbled.

The spirit smiled gently.  "Ah, but you didn't tell her that, did you?"

He frowned.  "Of course not, what would've been the point?  And speaking of points, I find I cannot truly fathom yours.  Haven't we wasted enough time on my tedious past yet?" 

The spirit nodded.  "My time grows short.  Just one more stop, I think."

Snape frowned again.  "Oh, all right, where to now?  Back to the common room fire?  You've seen one Christmas in Slytherin House you've seen them all, you know."  They headed back through the wall.

"Have you got something against doors, spirit?" questioned Snape, as they came out into a formal parlor.  Snape's face blanched, and he swallowed hard.  "I'd really rather not revisit this particular Christmas, if you don't mind."

"Sorry, Severus, last stop on the tour," exclaimed the spirit primly.

Snape observed himself as a young man sitting next to a pretty young woman with tears in her eyes.  His younger self, a few years older than at the last stop, was speaking with a self-important air.  "I'm sorry if this distresses you, Belynda, but you must have known that once your secret came out the contract would be null and void." 

The young woman tried to take his hand as she pleaded, "But Severus, why should this matter so?  You told me you loved me.  Shouldn't that be enough?"

He pulled his hand away from hers.  "I was young, Belynda.  Too young to know what love is.  Of course, it matters.  How could you think that any self-respecting wizard would willingly marry a squib?  To willingly so dilute the bloodline, really, you're more naive than I thought!"  He stood up.  "I don't think we have anything further to discuss."  

The young woman stood also.  "This is truly your wish, Severus, that we should part?"

The younger Snape nodded stiffly.  She blinked back tears.  "Very well then.  I won't trouble you further.  May you be happy in the life you've chosen!"  She left him; and they parted.

The older Snape sighed heavily and turned back to the spirit.  "Okay, you've tortured me enough for one night.  Can we go now?"

The spirit shook her head.  "My time grows short," she said as she pushed him back through the wall into another room, one Snape didn't recognize.  However, he did recognize two of its occupants.  An older but still attractive Belynda was hugging a young man of about twelve or thirteen years.  A proud looking man stood next to her.

Snape's jaw dropped.  "I know that boy.  He's a student at the school.  He's quite a powerfully magical child.  He's Belynda's son?"

The spirit shook her head.  "Guess what, Snape?  Being a squib is no barrier to producing a powerful wizard heir."

Snape looked grim as he watched the happy family group.  Then he plastered a sneer onto his face and turned back to the spirit.  "Oh, well.  I can't be right all the time.  Aren't we done yet, spirit?  You keep saying your time is short yet you're still here.  More's the pity.  I'm really getting sick and tired of looking at you.  Haunt me no more!"  

In his frustration, he snatched the hat from her hands and crammed it down over her head, putting out that annoying white light.  He just kept pushing until the hat covered her completely.  Then everything went black, and he abruptly found himself back in his own bedroom.

Sharply he shook his head.  Good god, what a nightmare!  No more brandy before bed for him.  With a feeling of relief, he crawled back under the covers and sank back into the arms of Morpheus.


	4. Stave Three: The Second of the Three Spi...

                                                                                         Stave Three: The Second of the Three Spirits

The sound of a bell ringing once brought Snape back to consciousness.  Again with the bells!  This was truly getting annoying. He sat up and listened intently.  The room was silent.  He was about to lie back down, when he decided he'd better make sure.  So he drew aside the curtains on his bed to peer carefully around the room.  Uh oh.  There was a bright light coming from under his sitting room door, and he knew he hadn't left any lights on in there.

Well, if this was another ghostly presence, he was just going to give it a piece of his mind!  How could all this disruption of his much needed sleep be good for his well being, anyway?  The last thing he needed in the middle of the night was to waltz down memory lane with Minerva McGonagall.

He got out of bed, found his slippers again, and went and opened the door to his bedchamber.  His jaw dropped open in astonishment.  His sitting room had been transformed.

There was greenery of all kinds draping the walls…holly, ivy, mistletoe…and there was food…mountains of it, covering every inch of the room.  Had the house elves gone crazy?  Could they have possibly mistaken his sitting room for a storeroom?

There were meats of all types.  Roast beef, roast chicken, roast turkey, pork chops, and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, and steak.   There were piles of potatoes of all sorts, vegetables in all varieties, gravy, condiments, and the puddings…trifle, treacle tarts, pies of all kinds, ice cream, éclairs, doughnuts, and fruit.  The sheer excess almost made him ill to contemplate eating it all.

Sitting squarely in the middle of all this, indeed using it as a sort of throne, was a huge figure dressed in a green robe edged in white fur with a holly wreath encircling his head that was decorated with icicles.  He had a jolly air about him and with a smile on his face, he gestured at Snape with his massive torch that was shaped like a horn of plenty.

"Come in, come in, and know me better man!" he intoned in a ringing voice.

Snape crossed his arms and frowned at the figure.  "I thought I knew you perfectly well, Hagrid.  It appears I was mistaken.  Have you taken leave of your senses?"

The giant merely chuckled and shook his head.  "Guess again, Snape."

Snape sighed.  "Right.  Not Hagrid.  This nightmare just keeps getting stranger and stranger.  All right, I'll bite, if you aren't Hagrid…who are you?  The Ghost of Christmas Feasts?"

The figure in green laughed mirthfully.  "I never knew you had a sense of humor, Snape.  I am the Ghost of Christmas Present…join me and learn."

Snape picked his way through the food, narrowly avoiding plunging a foot through a slice of watermelon.  "Very well.  Are we off on another merry jaunt around the castle?  Who shall we be spying on this time?  I've never been much of a voyeur, but I'll admit that watching others while not being seen does have its appeal."

The giant chuckled warmly and held out his robe.  "Touch my robe Snape, and we'll be off."

Reluctantly, Snape extended his hand and grasped a handful of green robe.  Instantly, they flew upward, plunging through the ceiling.  They whizzed up, and up, and up, until they came out into what Snape recognized as the Gryffindor common room.

A nervous figure paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.  Snape recognized him as Neville Longbottom.  Neville was practically in tears.  He kept pausing and staring at the portrait hole as if he was waiting for someone who was very late.

Suddenly the portrait swung back, and a cold and shivering Harry Potter crawled through the hole into the room.

"Harry!"  Neville exclaimed.  "Where have you been?  What took you so long?  It's been hours and hours!  I've been so worried.  You weren't caught were you?"

Harry dragged himself over in front of the roaring fire and sat down as close to it as he could get without singeing himself.  "Sorry, Neville.  I tried, but yes, I was caught."

Neville gasped in horror.  "Oh, my god!  What did Snape do to you?"

Snape rolled his eyes.  Good lord!  The way these children carried on you'd think he regularly ate students for breakfast!

Harry sighed in disgust.  "He made me inventory his storeroom!  I have to go back and finish it tomorrow."

Neville's jaw dropped.  "On Christmas!"

Harry nodded glumly.  "Yeah, Christmas is just another day on the calendar to Snape, the nasty git."

Neville sank down into a chair and stared into the fire.

Harry looked at him sadly.  "I'm sorry, Neville, I tried.  Why is it so important that you get these potion ingredients, anyway?"

Neville sighed.  "That's okay, Harry.  I really appreciate you trying."

Harry sat up.  "Couldn't you owl your grandmother and have her send you what you need?"

Neville shook his head.  "My grandmother is in hospital.  That's why I'm spending Christmas here at Hogwarts.  They're not sure if she's going to live.  I can't bother her with this now."  He sighed heavily.  "I'm doomed!  Snape will flunk me for sure then I'll end up getting kicked out of here.  I'm hanging on by a thread, as it is.  This was my last chance to make my parents proud of me."

Harry was confused.  Weren't Neville's parents in a mental hospital?  As far as Harry knew they didn't even recognize Neville anymore.  How could he make them proud of him when they didn't know him from Albus Dumbledore?  Of course, Harry wasn't supposed to know about that, so he said, "I don't understand, Neville.  What's this all about anyway?"

Neville shrank in on himself and stared at the floor.  "Have you ever wondered why I live with my grandmother, Harry?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry swallowed hard and shook his head.  "I guess, I always thought you were an orphan, like me."

Neville shook his head sadly.  "Not exactly.  My parents are still alive.  They used to be Aurors.  They fought against You-Know-Who.  They were the best, too.  Everyone liked and admired them."  His face creased in a wistful smile.  "They were great people, Harry.  They loved me a lot, but something terrible happened to them."  He looked down and took a deep breath.  "Death Eaters captured them and tortured them until they lost their minds.  They're in a mental hospital, Harry.  I used to go with my grandmother to visit them at Christmas.  Guess I won't see them this year…oh, well, it's not like they recognize me anyway."

Harry looked sadly at Neville.  "I'm really sorry, Neville."

Neville shrugged and looked up.  "It's okay, I've gotten used to it."

Harry frowned.  "Why is it so important that you get these potion ingredients?"

Neville gave a heavy sigh.  "I flunked potions last term.  Professor Snape was ready to get me kicked out, but Professor Dumbledore took pity on me and made Snape give me another chance to pass the final.  I have to make a perfect "Be-Of-Good-Cheer" potion over Christmas break.  If I do it right I pass, and I can stay.  If I don't then I flunk out of Hogwarts.  If I was home I'd be able to get the ingredients I need, but when my grandmother got sick and I had to stay here that changed.  Harry, I can't flunk out!  I can't!  My parents were such wonderful people, everyone liked them, and I'm such a failure.  I need to do better.  If I do well enough to graduate from Hogwarts, I want to become an Auror, too.  I need to avenge my parents.  I need to think…they'd be proud of me.  I can't flunk out.  It would be worse than dying!"  He buried his face in his hands and started to sob.

Harry wasn't sure what to say.  He patted Neville awkwardly on the shoulder.  "Don't worry, Neville.  We'll think of something.  Perhaps I can nick what you need tomorrow, when I go back to finish the inventory."

Neville shook his head.  "No, Harry.  You've gotten into enough trouble for me.  I can't let you get into any more.  I'm just going to have to get used to the idea of Snape flunking me out.  It'll certainly make his Christmas."  The two boys sat there glumly and stared into the fire.

Snape stirred restlessly.  "Enough of this, spirit.  This spying on others is getting old.  Can we not move on?"

The spirit gazed soberly at Snape.  "What's the matter, Snape…no snappy comeback, this time?  Don't like to hear unpleasant truths about yourself?"

Snape frowned.  "All the idiot boy would have had to do was ask for help.  It's a required assignment, after all.  Once he explained his circumstances, I'd have given him what he needed.  He didn't need to send Potter to steal for him."

The spirit eyed him skeptically.  "Would you indeed, Snape…without extracting amusement…or causing pain…at his expense?"

Snape looked uncomfortable.  "Certainly," he said hesitantly.  "Can we not move on, spirit?  Doesn't your time grow short?  I was hearing that constantly from the last spirit."

"Very well."  The giant nodded.  "Take my robe again, and we'll be off Snape.  With a last sober glance at the boys by the fire, Snape was whisked away down through the floor once more.

They made a dramatic entrance into the Great Hall through the enchanted ceiling.  Everyone was at Christmas dinner.  They arrived just in time to see the back of Severus Snape as he stalked out of the hall with his black robes billowing around him.  The cheerfulness of those still at table rose a notch at his exit.

Minerva McGonagall turned to Dumbledore and exclaimed in exasperation, "Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now, Albus.  I swear that every year Severus becomes more and more of a blight on Christmas dinner!  I know you're fond of him and I've tried to be fair, but really Severus Snape is nothing but a cold, unpleasant, nasty person.  Even the good cheer of Christmas can't lift his spirits.  He'd be better off staying down in those dungeons he loves so much instead of lurking around casting a pall over everyone's happiness."

Snape sniffed to himself as they settled to the floor behind Dumbledore.  Well, really, what's gotten Minerva into such a snit?  He smiled darkly.  He must've really gotten her good over something to bring on this tirade.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  "Now, Minerva, don't be bitter.  Severus doesn't deserve our ire.  I, for one, am sorry for him.  I couldn't be angry with him if I tried.  Who do you suppose loses out the most by his ill whims?  He does, of course.  He denies himself happiness and friendship.  He causes more pain and sorrow to himself than we could ever inflict on him.  I mean to continue to offer my hand in friendship, to continue to leave open the opportunity for fellowship and belonging.  He will always be welcome here at Christmas dinner, whether he thinks so or not.  Perhaps one day he'll raise his eyes out of that dungeon and realize that the rest of the world is open to him, too.  He doesn't need to suffer alone in the dark forever for the mistakes of his past."

Snape swallowed with difficulty and stared soberly at Dumbledore.  He felt an unexpected pang of affection for the old wizard as he stood there a silent spy at the merriment of Christmas dinner.  He realized that his present position was very familiar to him.  Didn't he always feel rather like he was on the outside at every occasion with his face pressed to the glass?  Did it have to be thus?

Snape backed away from the figures at the table.  "Enough, spirit, enough!  Take me back to my bed.  I've seen and heard too much tonight."

The spirit regarded him sadly.  "But have you truly heard and learned, Severus?  My time on this earth is indeed ended, but yours, I think, is not yet done."

Suddenly everything went black!  Snape found himself in absolute unrelieved darkness, and for the first time all night he felt truly afraid.  A faint light began to worm its way into his consciousness, and with it a slick gray fog.  Then without warning, from out of the fog, stepped a dementor.  It's presence filled him with a horrible dread.


	5. Stave Four: The Last of the Spirits

                                                                                                 Stave Four: The Last of the Spirits

Without the fog the dementor would have blended perfectly into the darkness so totally did it resemble its surroundings.  It glided up to him and stood silently and motionlessly, waiting for his reaction.

Snape took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.  Without a sound they stared at each other for long moments.  Finally Snape broke the silence.  "Are you yet another spirit?  The Baron did say there would be three."

The dementor inclined its head once.  "Okay, not the chatty type.  Well, there does seem to be a pattern to this insanity.  Are you the Ghost of Christmases to come?" inquired Snape cautiously.

The dementor nodded once again.

Oh joy, thought Snape, a preview of coming attractions, as if living one miserable day at a time isn't bad enough.  Well, standing here in the darkness isn't getting us anywhere.  He plastered his most intimidating glare onto his face.  "Well, spirit, isn't your time limited as well?  Should we not be off?  The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get back to my much needed rest."

The dementor just stared at him, then slowly it held out its arm.  The idea of touching it made Snape's flesh crawl, but he supposed he'd faced worse.  So he hesitantly reached out a hand and touched the inky black robe.

Suddenly he found himself in the small front parlor of a tidy cottage.  He stood in total confusion for a moment, not recognizing his surroundings.  Then he heard voices coming from an adjoining room.  Snape moved over to the doorway and peered into a tiny Spartan kitchen.  Two men sat around a small table with glasses of liquor in their hands.  Snape frowned.  Them he recognized all too well.

Sirius Black raised his glass high with a big smile on his face.  "Let's toast to this happy day, Remus!  Man, I don't think I could ever get better news…other than complete exoneration, of course.  He's dead!  He's dead!  He's finally dead!"

Remus Lupin smiled a tired smile.  "If you say so, Sirius.  The world will certainly be a happier place without him in it."

Black grinned and downed his drink in one shot.  "You said it.  It rather reminds me of a Muggle song…"Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead!"  Except in this case, of course, it's a wizard."  He laughed a bit drunkenly. 

Lupin downed his own drink and smiled again.  "What should we do to celebrate?"

Black laughed loudly.  "Personally I intend to dance on his grave!"

They both chortled drunkenly.

Snape stepped back and frowned at the spirit.  "Has Voldemort finally been defeated?  Is that what they're celebrating, spirit?  That would certainly be worth celebrating.  I wouldn't mind dancing on his grave, myself."

The spirit merely stared at Snape enigmatically and extended its arm.  With a frown, and a last glance at the happy drunks in the kitchen, Snape touched the robe, and the scene changed again.

Now they were floating over the halls of Hogwarts, which were crowded with students.  Everyone was laughing and talking.  Snape heard many voices exclaiming that someone was dead.  Everyone seemed quite happy about it as if a holiday had been proclaimed.

Snape and the spirit dropped down through the castle into the entrance hall, where they spotted Filch and Professor Sprout having a conversation.

"How did it happen, Filch?"

Filch shrugged.  "Madam Pomfrey says he just dropped dead.  A heart attack probably."

Professor Sprout snorted.  "Not likely.  Everyone knows he didn't have a heart.  Perhaps it finally dawned on him that no one wanted him around anymore, and for once in his miserable life, he decided to do the right thing."

Filch shook his head somberly.  "Not everyone will be happy he's gone, you know."

Professor Sprout sighed.  "I know.  The Headmaster must be quite upset.  He's so soft hearted, but he'll get over it.  You mark my words, before long it'll be like he was never here at all, and Hogwarts will be a much happier place!"

Snape's face blanched, and his expression got very grim.  "They're not talking about Voldemort, are they spirit?"  The spirit slowly shook its head.

Snape sighed.  "Do I really need to see any more of this?  I do believe I get the point."

But the spirit extended its arm once more, and reluctantly Snape touched it. 

Suddenly Snape found himself standing in his own bedroom.  Madame Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall stood by quietly staring at a stiff unmoving figure that lay on the big bed covered by a sheet.

McGonagall sighed.  "What happened to the bed curtains, Poppy?"

"He pulled them down himself, Minerva.  Probably had a massive attack and clutched at them as he fell.  We found him twisted up in them.  I had Filch dispose of them.  Certainly no one else will have any use for them."

McGonagall nodded.  "Who'll be arranging for burial?  Does he have any family left?"

Poppy snorted.  "Not that's willing to claim him, I'm sure.  I'm afraid it'll all be left up to Albus.  He's likely to be the only true mourner, anyway."

McGonagall nodded again.  "Poor Albus, he was inexplicably fond of Severus.  I never could figure out why.  It's not like the man ever did anything to deserve his regard.  No gratitude or warmth there, no expression of friendship on Severus' part, let me tell you.  Sullen, cold, unpleasant…well, he's gone now."

Poppy nodded in agreement.  "Yes.  Well, I need to go see Albus.  To see if there's anything I can do to help him get through this.  Are you coming?"

McGonagall nodded, and the two women turned and left the room.

Snape slowly crossed the room and stood looking down at the still figure on the bed.  Well, it was certainly true that you learned who your friends were, or weren't in this case, after you were gone.  Had he really expected anything else?  What had he ever done to merit anything other than rejection or derision?

He reached out a hand to draw back the cover from over the face of the figure on the bed.  He felt compelled to be sure that it truly was his body under that sheet.  The room became darker and darker, but his cold dead face seemed to glow with a ghostly light.  It grew brighter and larger until it totally filled his field of vision.  Suddenly, the eyes flew open and looked at him, and he found himself falling into their inky black depths.  Down, down, down into nothingness.


	6. Stave Five: The End of It

                                                                                                         Stave Five: The End of It

Snape's eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed.  His heart was pounding hard in his chest.  He took great gulps of air and expelled them forcefully.  My god, what a nightmare!  He sat very still.  Is it over?  He'd thought so before after all.  His eyes looked around carefully.  The bed curtains were in place.  Shoving them aside, he got out of bed and glanced around the room.  All was quiet and as usual.  Still unsure he strode across the room and looked into the sitting room.  Everything was in place.  The clock on the mantle read half past six.

Snape frowned to himself and slowly walked back into his bedroom.  It must've been just a nightmare after all.  What would have brought something like that on?  It was too dreary to believe that his subconscious simply felt that it was time to turn over a new leaf.  He was the man he was…period; it was far too late to make changes…even if he wanted to.  Anyway, he'd always rather believed that the world should change to accommodate him rather than the other way around.

Stop thinking about it!  It was just an unpleasant dream…a nightmare.  More creative than most…more vivid…but still just a dream…nothing worth wasting more time on.

Suddenly he paused.  At the foot of his bed lay a lone package wrapped in colorful paper.  He bent down and picked it up.  His yearly Christmas gift from Albus.  An interesting manuscript perhaps…or occasionally a bottle of brandy.  A faint smile flitted across his features.  Once it was a large box of chocolate frogs, really…what possessed the man at times?

The Potions Master walked to the side of the bed and sat down.  He glanced down at the package in his hands.  Then he looked up.  Thoughtfully he reached out a hand and fingered his green bed curtains in silence.  What harm would it do to humor the Headmaster for one day out of the year?  A present, if you will, for a man he respected.

Snape smiled to himself.  It would also have the added benefit of surprise.  He hated being predictable, much better to keep them guessing, keep them off balance.  Yes, there could be entertainment value in that.  Chuckling low in his throat, he put aside his gift and went to get dressed.  He had some arrangements to make.

                                                                      *********************************************

Snape stood in his classroom with his arms crossed and his darkest glower plastered to his face as he watched the hands of his classroom clock tick towards four minutes after eight.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and Harry Potter raced in only to come to an abrupt halt at Snape's feet.  His eyes bugged out, as he looked up at his teacher in absolute dread.

Snape let a small nasty smile creep across his face as he purred, "Well, well, four minutes late, Mr. Potter.  Now, what do you think we should do about that?  I know I warned you not to keep me waiting.  My cauldrons do all need to be thoroughly scrubbed out, and it's been simply ages since anyone has disemboweled my kancerworms.  Ah, I know!"  He smirked down at Harry, who blanched and gulped nosily.  "I think I'll simply send you on your way."

Harry frowned in confusion.  Huh?  Was Snape toying with him?  That must be it.  Harry would get one foot out the door and bang Snape would lower the boom.  Then Harry would be disemboweling kancerworms until Easter!

As Harry hesitated, Snape smiled nastily.  "A tad slow on the uptake, aren't we Mr. Potter?  I told you, you…can…go."

Harry's jaw dropped.  "Go…Professor?"

Snape gave him a disgusted look.  Really the boy was thicker than he thought.  He leaned down and put his face closer to Harry's.  Then he spoke very slowly.  "Yes, go Mr. Potter.  As in, leave…my…sight...as soon as possible."

Harry found himself nodding imbecilely and backing out the door as fast as he could.  As he turned to flee, Snape's voice paused him momentarily.  "No more pilfering, Mr. Potter, or you won't get off so lightly next time."

                                                                       **********************************************

Harry practically ran all the way back to the Gryffindor tower.  He blurted out the password, and threw himself through the portrait hole as if an army of trolls was after him.  What the hell was wrong with Snape anyway?  Why would he let Harry go like that?  Surely torturing Harry would be Snape's favorite way of spending Christmas.  Why give that up?  Harry shook his head in bewilderment.  Oh well, why look a gift horse in the mouth?  He should just enjoy his freedom and not worry about Snape's mental health.

As he entered the common room, he spotted Neville standing by one of the tables looking down at a large open box with a confused expression on his face.

"Hi Neville.  Happy Christmas!" said Harry.  

Neville looked up, but it took him a moment to respond because his mind was somewhere else.  "Oh…Harry…yes, Happy Christmas." 

Harry walked over to join him.  "What's in the box?  Is it a present?"

Neville nodded in wonderment.  "Yes, when I came downstairs, I found it here on the table addressed to me."

"Who's it from?"

Neville shook his head.  "I have no idea.  There was no card.  I don't get it, Harry.  It's full of potion ingredients!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "What?  The ones you need?"

Neville nodded dazedly.  "Yes, it contains everything you need to make a "Be-Of-Good-Cheer" potion…enough for two batches, actually.  Harry, who could have sent this?  No one but you knew I needed them."

Harry pawed through the box of ingredients.  He pulled out the box of ribbonworms.  The handwriting on the label looked very familiar.  "Neville, these came from Snape's storeroom!"

Neville's jaw dropped.  "What?  How do you know?"

"I recognize the handwriting on the label.  It's Snape's all right."

The two of them stared at each other wordlessly.  Neville swallowed.  "You don't think…Snape…could have sent them…do you?"

Harry looked down at the box of ribbonworms and then back up at Neville.  Then as one they both laughed loudly and exclaimed, "Nah!"

                                                                    ************************************************

Snape leaned back in his chair and swirled his brandy around in his glass.  He and Dumbledore were practically the only ones left at table after an unusually lavish Christmas dinner.

Dumbledore sighed and regarded Snape fondly.  "Thank you for the Christmas present, Severus.  I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed "Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans"."

Snape inclined his head briefly.  "You're welcome, Albus.  Although, strictly speaking, those particular beans were not "every flavour".  I used a strong sorting charm on them to weed out the unpleasant ones."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.  "Ah, that explains why I've enjoyed them so much.  Thank you, Severus.  I don't know why using that charm never occurred to me.  I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf."

Snape nodded pleasantly once more.  "My pleasure, Albus."

Dumbledore eyed Snape closely.  "Well, I believe this is the longest you've ever remained at Christmas dinner, Severus.  Yesterday you gave me the impression that we wouldn't be seeing you for long today.  What brought about this change of heart, my boy, if I may ask?"

Snape smiled enigmatically.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Albus…but don't expect it to last."

Dumbledore smiled happily.  "I'll take what I can get, Severus."  He raised his glass to Snape.  "Happy Christmas, Severus, my boy!"

Snape smiled a satisfied smile and raised his glass in return.  "Happy Christmas, Albus.  Happy Christmas, indeed."

                                                                                                                   Finite Incantatem


End file.
